


Firestarter

by niawen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Frottage, Light Bondage, M/M, PWP, consent given, mild choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3635886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niawen/pseuds/niawen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adoribull smut.  You know the drill- Dom/Sub, Dorian has a slight size kink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firestarter

At first, Dorian hadn’t constantly caught himself staring at the gigantic bulk of a Qunari as they had traversed the wilds in those early days; when the inquisition had only been a brigade of soldiers on a god forsaken mountain top.  Well, technically they were still a bunch of soldiers on a mountaintop but they were a full army and Skyhold was notably better appointed.  Still, the weeks had dragged on and Dorian found himself in the strangest of company.  His father would have been horrified, to say the very least.  Which, quite possibly, was the satisfying little nugget that had sparked his initial furtive stares in the first place.  He imagined how his father’s oily face would look if he brought home The Iron Bull.  Dorian rather thought he’d have shat his pants right in the entry hall.  And it was particularly sweet.

 

As time passed however, Dorian couldn’t quite stop staring.  Bull was quite… the specimen.  He was two, nearly three heads taller and twice again as wide, with enormous, heavy shoulders and a trim waist that was still about as wide as the broadest parts of Dorian himself.  Once, he’d let his eyes slide down Bull’s broad back, admiring the rather pleasing waist-to-shoulder ratio, when he thought (rather abruptly) that Bull must have a cock to match the rest of his proportions.  And while Dorian was no delicate virgin, the intruding thought had made him giggle outright then flush an excruciating shade of crimson and he spent the afternoon trying to avoid explaining to the Qunari and Varric what his ‘inside joke’ had been.

 

Dorian contented himself to look.  Though he entertained fantasies of coming across his father with Bull trailing behind him, looking imposing.  And then he occasionally entertained fantasies of getting his mouth around that huge cock, trying to imagine how much he could take of it’s bulk before he choked.  It was tempting, but never much more than idle daydreams.

 

Until the beast had made that one, single comment.

 

They had been out in some forest in between the middle of nowhere and the ass-end of Thedas beset upon by a dozen wolves.  Certainly not the major threat that dragons or Darkspawn posed, sure, but their forward party could easily be taken out or seriously wounded without proper caution.  Dorian had held back and fired off bolts of flame, sneaking in a few explosive blasts when any wolves strayed far enough away from his comrades.  A sudden, loud snarl from behind him made him whirl, surprise and a slight shot of fear dropping in his gut.  Two wolves had managed to break away with the others distracted and were closing in on him.  Dorian knew that he was strongest at a range and practically defenseless in close proximity.  He tried to rush backwards without opening his back, but knew immediately he wouldn’t have the luxury of time in which to cast something powerful enough.

 

The only warning he’d had, of course, had been the thunderous footfalls of something huge moving very fast before The Iron Bull had charged both beasts, head lowered and horns forward- like a literal charging bull- and collided like a thunderclap with the two feral wolves.  Dorian made to use this opportunity to attack again but every time he moved, Bull was obstinately in front of him, blocking him and taking up a rather large chunk of his field of vision.  Another moment or two, and it was all over and Dorian was a little miffed.  Bull lumbered past him, gave him a small (somehow knowing) smirk and clapped Lavellan on the back, nearly sending her into the dirt with his unchecked strength.

 

“You’re an utter beast,” Dorian said, and it was clear he hadn’t meant it as a compliment.

 

“Come again?” Bull asked, looking mildly entertained and ready to bicker, his scarred lips curled slightly over sharp, white teeth.

 

Dorian was not having any of it, even with Varric shaking his head with a smirk and joining Lavellan.  “You stand there, flexing your muscles, hopping about like some beast of burden with no thoughts but conquest.”  He took a step forward, meaning to bring himself closer to the rest of the team but Bull outright leered at him as he passed.

 

“That’s right,” he growled, leaning in a little aggressively and smirking something awful. “These big, muscled hands could tear those robes off while you struggled helplessly in my grip.”  Dorian sputtered in disbelief but Bull went on, oblivious and with a downright explicit growl to his rumbling voice.  “I would pin you down and as you grip my horns I would conquer you.”

 

“Wh-what?” Dorian blustered, unable to quite gather himself.

 

Bull straightened up, his eyebrows knitting and a slight frown pulling at his expression.  “Is that not where that was going?”

 

“No!” Dorian snapped.  “It was very much not!”

 

Varric had nearly pissed himself laughing and Lavellan had blushed enough for all of them, but they’d moved on in awkward silence.

 

Damn him, Dorian thought abruptly, coming back to himself as he was staring blankly out onto the training grounds and feeling rather pouty.  That stupid comment had stayed with him for weeks and he couldn’t help but picture it.  Bull’s hands were huge and while Dorian wasn’t exactly a poncy waif, Bull could overpower him without breaking a sweat.  He squirmed slightly, adjusting himself delicately on his collection of poufs, stacked on one of the window sills of Skyhold’s library... Bull's huge hands would cover great expanses of Dorian's dark flesh and he tried so hard not to imagine Bull tearing his clothes away and forcing that monster prick into his tight body... Dorian wanted to struggle, he wanted to be overpowered and held down.  Dorian was never anybody's bitch but he was not ashamed to say he found something thrilling in being forced and manhandled- he knew Bull could give it to him.

 

The problem was, of course, that once his brain had constructed that stupid little thought, it was harder to get out than nug-shit in an Orlesian carpet.  He had swore to himself that he wasn’t going to jeopardize the Inquisition’s mission with petty personal angst but tell that to his dick two pints into a long, rambunctious night of Wicked Grace with Bull, the Chargers, and Varric.  Dorian smashed his cards onto the table and turned immediately to Bull, sitting next to him- an eight foot tall wall of muscle perched on a trembling barstool.  “Conquer this, Oxman,” Dorian slurred delightedly, grinning smugly up at the Qunari.  Bull looked like he might have been taken aback for a second before a grin split his scarred lips and he leered down at the human.  

 

“I can and will, Vint,” he rumbled, but that single green eye wasn’t on the cards, it was focused on Dorian with a degree of unflattering intensity that made the mage’s face heat sure as any magical flame.

 

Dorian squirmed, his lips pulling into a taut frown.  The beast was insufferable.  Just for the quip, Dorian played like a man possessed for the next few rounds, ruthlessly blocking every successful hand Iron Bull tried to put together.  With both of them battling each other, Varric and Krem had taken over the dominant hands until eventually, the dwarf reached out for the satchel of gold coins in the center of the table, chuckling under his breath.  “Too bad, boys,” he was saying with a little too much delight.  “That’s just too bad.”

 

“Lovely time,” Dorian spat, his ale bitter as he took one last gulp and set it back down peevishly.  “I’d best be off, I’m serving in the forward party tomorrow.  It’d be a wonderful little distraction to get off this mountain to go traipsing about in the desert, yes?  Night, all.”  Frustrated at the loss of his coin and more than a bit drunk, he stood with a flourish and swayed out of the tavern.  The night air was comfortably cool, though, and after the heat of the alcohol and the fire and the huge monster of a man beside him, he was pleased to feel the fresh air on his clammy forehead.

 

Skyhold was quiet, the grounds sprawling and empty under the waxing moon hovering over the eastern ramparts.  Dorian thought he was far too drunk to notice the rare silence over the infirmary tents and training rings but it was quiet to the point of oppression and as someone who had spent the last chunk of his life dodging militant southern Templars and Tevinter agents, he had learned the hard way to take note when his surroundings were odd.

 

Twice he stopped in his tracks and if he hadn’t been drunk, would have been certain that he had heard soft footfalls behind him but as it was he could only sway on his feet and wonder if he had imagined it.  The second Dorian stepped into the fortress, however, he became acutely aware that he was not alone.  He might not be some assassin or Ben-Hassrath, but the mage was no gormless civilian oblivious to danger.  He didn’t alter his pace as he moved through the main hall and up the side staircase towards his room next to the library, thinking incorrectly that he would have the advantage in close quarters since he could engulf the entire stone corridor in flame to keep his attacker at bay.

 

The second he reached for the door to his chambers, a loud thumping behind him startled him- but perhaps did not surprise him as much as he would have guessed.  Something huge and heavy impacted against him, sending him against the sturdy wooden portal with the kind of careless violence he expected from someone stupid enough to sneak into Skyhold to attack him.  The door fell open under their weight and both Dorian and his assailant stumbled inside the dark room.  There were hands- huge hands- clamped around his wrists and Dorian’s drunk mind noted that whomever was attacking him was trying to inhibit spellcasting.  Well, he thought airily, points for being thorough, but none for being correct.  He inhaled sharply, lungs flooding with air before he lurched forward as hard as he could and blew white hot flames straight in his attacker’s surprised face.

 

The figure released him and leaped back, crashing into the dresser and for a split second in the flare of orange light, Dorian realized it was Iron Bull.  “Didn’t the Ben-Hassrath teach you not to underestimate mages?” Dorian slurred quite arrogantly, his lips curled to show a sliver of white teeth- though smoke still snaked out from his nostrils and from between his lips.

 

“Damn it all, _bas_ , that only makes me want you more,” Bull snarled and before Dorian had quite made sense of this, the Qunari had him shoved up against the wall again and they were breathing in each other’s faces- the smoke from Dorian’s spell growing fainter on his every breath.

 

“Want?” Dorian repeated stupidly.  His mind deserted him for a second when Bull’s horned head angled down and lips were on the curve of his throat- it had been a while, a long while for Dorian and the simple touch had shudders wracking his nerves.  

 

“Yes, want,” Bull replied urgently.  “Did you not understand my meaning with all the comments?  I thought you were clever.”

 

Dorian was drunk and reeling from this, reeling from the idea that Bull had stalked him up to his chambers.  The indignity of it and the mild insult had him bristling, however, and he suddenly reached up and seized one of Bull’s horns and yanked.  “What meaning is there when you talk like a horny beast to everyone, when you call me ‘Vint’ like I’m not supposed to find that remotely threatening, when you follow me up to dark corners of the keep to what, take me by force if I refuse?” Dorian snapped, refusing to let go of the thick horn in his hand, even as Bull attempted to disengage.

 

“Creeping up behind you was a bad idea,” Bull agreed lowly, his great head tilted and his expression sour enough to be contrary if not outright defiant.  “I wasn’t thinking.  I’m sorry.”

 

“Oh, blame it on the liquor, I see,” Dorian snarled nastily.  “Corner a mage like that again and I’ll be surprised to see you still in possession of that single eye afterwards.”

 

Bull grunted, the single eye remaining to him tracking his every movement.  “Dumb with drink, overconfident, hungry, excited… I apologize for acting out of line.  Forcing you is not my aim.”

 

“Then what is?” Dorian frowned sharply but didn’t let up for a moment, noting with severe disapproval that Bull did not seem nearly as drunk as he had in the tavern.  To his immense annoyance, Bull chuckled deeply and low noise reverberated in Dorian’s ribcage and made his heart pound.

 

“Seriously?  I want to fuck you.  I thought it was something we both wanted,” Iron Bull answered.  He was, maddeningly enough, completely shameless and had the manner about him of someone asking for a for a pint of ale.  

 

Dorian sagged a little bit, his face flaming and his temper surging.  The thought of being made awkward by the Iron Bull of all people was just too much.  “Of course you think that, you think everyone wants a piece of you.”

 

Bull laughed and finally yanked back a little on Dorian’s hold of his horn.  “You’re not telling me no.  You’d have blasted me in the face if you were actually going to tell me no.”  Bull jerked back suddenly and Dorian felt his fingers slip and a second later he was backed into the wall again by a thick slab of pure muscle- the Iron Bull’s tensed arm.  “I need you to tell me ‘yes’ before we do anything.”

 

“The nerve!” Dorian sputtered, his body temperature skyrocketing so fast he wasn’t sure if he was subconsciously trying to cast.  “I can’t abide-”  Bull cut him off, his heavy hands tightening like iron bands around his biceps, pinning him to the wall effortlessly and Dorian’s voice died a little in his throat as his pulse thundered.

 

“Two words, Dorian,” Iron Bull said slowly, his voice low and growling and deadly serious.  “The first is ‘yes’.  Otherwise, I’m going to turn around and leave.  We need never speak on this again.”

 

“A-and the second?” the mage sputtered, feeling humiliated and nervous and undeniably provoked.

 

“ _Katoh_ ,” Bull answered, his grip tight and his face inches away from Dorian’s.  “A watchword.  You say it, and I stop.  No questions asked.”

 

“Kind of you,” Dorian spat, looking ruffled and flushed.  He was desperate to pull the look into something that resembled agitation and not awkward… excitable… whatever it was he was feeling right now in his throbbing, stupid body.  Bull was looking remarkably close to some huge apex predator cornering something small and helpless.  Dorian felt he should find that immensely threatening but his body was shivering and arching of its own accord in the Qunari’s powerful grip and his mouth hung open, the remaining, trite arguments he’d wanted to follow up with forgotten.

 

“Those are the rules,” Bull explained calmly, still staring Dorian straight in the eyes.  “How much more of your time would you like me to waste?  I’m in the mood to rut like an animal in heat and if I can’t have you tonight, I will need to make due somewhere else.  Hurry up.”  The last two words were snarled and Bull’s scarred lip curled over sharp teeth and Dorian was vaguely grateful he was being held up because his knees felt suddenly weak.

 

“Yes,” he gasped, unable and unwilling to hold out through the teasing, the banter any longer.  “Yes! Just hurry up!  So help me, I will melt your face off if you breathe a word of this to anyone-!”

 

Bull hissed sharply and shoved Dorian harder against the wall.  “All of Skyhold will know what happened tonight because I will have you howling for it.”

 

“You savage-” Dorian spat, squirming suddenly in his outrage.  Bull’s original comment was suddenly brought to the forefront of his mind as it became clear that in terms of physical prowess, Dorian was utterly and entirely outmatched.

 

“Struggle more, little mage,” he crooned in a low snarl that had Dorian’s blood racing.  Bull was enjoying this… this farce or fantasy of force or whatever the bloody hell it was.  It spun Dorian up the way dry brush feeds a wildfire.  He thrashed, struggling to get his fingers into the pressure points of Bull’s thick hands.  Bull spun him round and practically threw him over his own bed and Dorian reeled.  His body pulsed eagerly and the confusing mix of exhilaration and fury made his head spin and his flesh burn.  He pushed himself upright only to gasp unflatteringly as a huge, gray hand clamped over his mouth and wrenched him forward.  He was on his knees, crouching limply on the edge of the bed while Bull gripped his face- his hand was so large it covered everything below Dorian’s nose.  “ _Katoh_?” he asked, and the smug little curl to his lips made Dorian shake his head furiously.  Bull seemed delighted.

 

Bull wrenched Dorian higher on his knees and he dug his fingers into the collar of the mage’s tunic, tugging threateningly a few times to give him an idea of his intentions.  Dorian would have cursed but the muffled noise that made it past Bull’s hand clamped over his mouth was unintelligible at best.  The Qunari grunted and yanked and Dorian’s clothing hung off him in shreds.

 

Dorian flexed furiously against Bull’s grip on him but the Qunari only manhandled him harder in answer.  “Such a pampered little mageling.  I bet growing up in Tevinter made you think you’d have the whole world at your feet.”  He struggled with a few straps crossing Dorian’s squirming body before he was able to release them.  Dorian realized Bull neglected to toss one of them over his shoulder to where the rest of his clothing sat in a heap and he finally bit the hand clamped over his mouth.

 

Bull grunted and pulled his hand away, instead seizing a thick handful of Dorians hair and wrenched him closer with a violence that both surprised the mage and had his cock twitching.  “Now who’s the savage?” Bull taunted, shoving Dorian to his back.  Bull lunged and was astride him a second later, straddling his stomach with all his weight and brandishing the belt menacingly.  

 

“You animal,” Dorian snarled breathlessly, the heat and weight pressing down against his dick making him squirm fruitlessly.  “You savage fucking brute-!”

 

Bull seized his jaw and crushed their lips together, forcing his rough tongue into Dorian’s mouth with a degree of ownership that was obscene.  He felt the mage tense and then give in beneath his grip and he forced Dorian closer so he could deepen the kiss, if it could be called that at all with so much teeth and tongue involved.  “I think I have you pegged, Dorian,” Bull growled, trying not to look as utterly smug about the whole predicament as he felt.  “Someone like you needs a little validation, a little challenge… and something tells me you’re a kinky little cocksucker.”

 

“Well, I’ve never let an animal fuck me before so not quite as much as you seem to think!” Dorian spat, red-faced and heaving, his lips kiss-bruised and swollen.  

 

Bull laughed loudly and suddenly shifted, rolling Dorian onto his stomach and pinning him down with one huge hand on his back.  “It’s gonna be a long time before we start playing with gags, your wicked little tongue is entertaining.”  Dorian cursed fluently in Tevene beneath him, apparently so furious and humiliated that the common parlance had fled him entirely.  Bull fed the leather in his hand around the mage’s throat and cinched it tightly- Dorian froze but Bull gave the leashed mage an experimental tug.  “Maybe one day I will show you how Qunari keep their mages…  But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

 

Dorian had half an oath out of his mouth before Iron Bull yanked back with a brutal amount of strength, forcing him to his hands and knees.  Bull kept the leash taut and wasted little time in tearing the trousers still clinging to Dorian off his ass in one violent wrench.  He slapped the inside of Dorian’s dark thigh, wordlessly encouraging him to spread and bare himself.  When Bull was not immediately obeyed, he pulled even tighter on the makeshift leash, hauling Dorian back like a poorly behaved mongrel and half strangling him.

 

Dorian felt like he was drowning, which could hardly be attributed to only the belt around his throat.  Bull had only jerked on it hard enough to cut off his airflow for a few scant seconds but Dorian was heaving and gasping, his whole body trembling.  He had no choice but to spread himself at another sharp slap and he hissed through his teeth.  Bull kept the lead short, forcing him into a tight, ramrod stiff arch that was humiliating and vulnerable… but something kept Dorian’s blood aflame and his cock was stiff between his thighs.

 

“ _Katoh_?” Bull asked, pulling back a moment and leaving Dorian to pant.

 

And just like that, Dorian’s temper was back in a flash.  “Fuh-Fuck you… I can take it…  You think you’re the first… r-rough fuck I’ve had?”

 

Bull only laughed and Dorian glared at him over his bared shoulder.  “No, but I do think I’m the first one you’ve gone all breathy over.”

 

In an instant, Dorian’s cocky snark was back and he sounded almost normal when he snapped: “Well, it can be a little off-putting to be tossed about by a half-wild oxman with a hard-on!”

 

Bull smacked Dorian across the ass so hard in nearly sent him to his side.  “Off putting?  I think you breathing fire in my face was more off-putting.  Lucky you, I’m pretty adamant when I want something.”

 

“By adamant you mean forceful?” Dorian quipped trying not to groan when Bull yanked him back and ground his clothed erection up against the mage’s bared ass.

 

Bull brought his huge hand cracking across Dorian’s bare ass again- the mage groaned weakly in pain and Bull reached around his thigh to grab his cock.  It was hard and pulsing and Dorian let out a strangled whine, his frame buckling slightly at the first touch.  Bull only smirked wider.  “I always ask, Dorian.  And I respect when people don’t want the attention, just like I respect when someone says katoh.  But you gave me permission and I think that you probably enjoy being manhandled more than you care to admit-!”  On the last word he flung Dorian around, flipping him to his back.  Bull was more than pleased to watch Dorian’s eyes roll and his mouth drop open in an utterly obscene moan when he seized the mage’s ankle and wrenched him forcibly down the bed, until his hips were just hanging off the edge.

 

Dorian was gripping the sheets so hard smoke was beginning to wisp up from between his fingers, his chest heaving and coated in a thin sheen of excited sweat… Bull dropped his leg and once the Qunari was absolutely certain Dorian was watching, hooked one thumb in his belt and dropped his hideous backwater-caravan-tent pants down just enough to set the hem under his cock and drawn balls.  Dorian’s mouth dropped open unflatteringly and he licked his lips unconsciously.  “You like that, Vint?” Bull crooned in a dangerous growl.  Dorian caught himself but it was too late and he flushed like a fool.  Bull slung himself low over Dorian’s much slighter frame, eclipsing much of the mage’s field of vision.  “I’ll teach you to like it a lot more,” he went on in a growl so low it made the hair on Dorian’s nape stand erect and his cock to twitch as the sound vibrated like a lyrium infusion in the pit of his chest.  "You're too small and tight to fuck," he continued with a smug crassness that was both infuriating and exhilarating.  "Not tonight at any rate.  I'm gonna have to train you to take it."

 

Dorian squirmed and the heat radiating off his dark body was growing in intensity with each passing second.  "Like hell!"

 

Bull only continued because it was obvious to both of them that Dorian was flushed and aching from the way his cock was so swollen and thick, smearing precome on his flat belly.  Bull chuckled and gave the makeshift lead a slight tug.  "I'll train you to take every last inch of it, mage, don't you worry.  But if we go too fast I could permanently damage the goods."

 

"You _disgusting...!_  You filthy savage!"  Dorian was exhaling more smoke now and Bull seemed utterly delighted by this fact.  He curled thick, strong fingers around the mage's stiff cock and slowly, maddeningly, stroked him from root to tip.  Dorian arched, pulled taut like a bowstring and the Qunari let out another low, rumbling laugh.  

 

"You're going to pieces, Vint.  You're about to break and all I did was treat you like the wild little deviant you are," Bull taunted.  "I'm going to make you fucking howl."

 

He pressed his cock against Dorian's- who jolted in shock at the searing flesh pressed against his dick and unflatteringly dwarfing it- and curled his fist tightly around both of them.  With a grunt of pure satisfaction and obvious relish, Iron Bull began pumping them roughly.

 

Dorian was fraying at the seams.  It had been a long time since he'd had time or the opportunity to roll with anyone and he was used to furtive trysts carried out over the course of a few scant minutes and never bothered with much in the area of foreplay or... whatever the hell Bull had done to him over the last while.  He arched again, his spine bowing off the mattress as Bull stroked and squeezed and pressed the pad of his huge thumb to the bulging head of Dorians full prick.  It was uncomfortable, certainly, but there was a shock of pleasured delirium that went with it and the mage was crying out the next second, his hips pitching wildly and his boneless, wobbly legs coiled tightly around Bull's broad hips.

 

Dorian would have been utterly mortified to find himself coming uncontrollably a second later if he had been in possession of the mental faculties required to process such a thing.  Instead, he spilled himself at Bull's next rough stroke and moaned so loud his voice nearly gave.  Dorian wasn't even finished before Bull lost it and the feel of his hot, sticky release spilling over his cock in a degrading and somehow mindfuckingly erotic display wound Dorian so tightly his cock pulsed again and with a shocked, hungry shout, the curtains behind the bed suddenly burst into flame.

 

It was chaos for the next minute or so.  Bull was cursing up a storm, tearing the flaming fabric off the wall and stamping it out while Dorian lay half off the bed, feeling like liquid and his ears ringing something fierce.

 

"Vashedan!" Bull swore, kicking the singed, discolored remains of the drapes off into the corner and rubbing his head a little heavily.  "Well," he finally continued, when he had wiped the sweat from his brow and righted his pants, "when was the last time someone made you set the drapes on fire?"

 

Dorian rolled gingerly to his side and when he could force his arms to lock, propped himself up and wrenched the belt from his neck.  "I think it was last week when we commandeered that keep from all those lyrium addicted templars," he snarked back waspishly- though his hair was so dishevelled that any real venom was lost.  "Don't push your luck!"

 

Bull held up his hands in a falsely placating gesture.  The shit eating grin he was wearing undermined it, however.  "I wouldn't dream of it, Dorian."  He came in close suddenly and wrenched Dorian in by the jaw in the next instant though, his hand rough on his face.  "Next time I'm going to get my dick all the way into your throat.  Tell that to your stuffy magister father, Vint."  He let go next second and Dorian scowled.

 

"You know, I just might.  I've always wanted to know what it looks like when a magister goes completely batshit crazy," he quipped nastily, though he couldn't help but feel Bull had said it specifically to conjure up what a happy little picture it made in Dorian's mind.  

 

The farce was over, it seemed and Bull was making no effort to hide the fact that he was watching Dorian closely.  "Until next time, then," Bull said in a casual tone that made Dorian's eyes narrow in annoyance.

 

"You sound so certain," the mage bit back at his retreating form, though he did finally sit up properly to gather the remains of his clothes off the floor.

 

"I am."


End file.
